Bonding
by ASecretHistory
Summary: Framework AU Season 4. May is desperate to understand why she feels so strongly drawn to this man she has never met. Philinda.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Like most people, I loved the Framework storyline in season 4. Being a Philinda fan, I really liked how they handled the way the two of them would just fall back into a kind of rhythm, while at the same time acknowledging that they don't really know each other.

But now I'm also going to go ahead and change what happened there. This will be AU Framework (yes, an AU within an AU), May is desperate to figure out why she feels so strongly about this perfect stranger. The timing is a little off, but let's imagine for the sake of this story that they're in there at the SHIELD base for a couple more days before they escape.

 **Disclaimer:** Marvel. Not me. They're the best.

 **Chapter 1**

"Either shoot us, or help, but don't just stand there. Snap out of it, May!"

At the time, his words had shot through her brain like the crack of a whip, his eyes piercing right down to something essential within her and suddenly her new hazy wavering seemed to solidify in her chest. She didn't know this man, not at all. She faintly recognised him as that teacher who had reported the subversive, but … the way he had spoken to her, she had felt for a moment that she _knew_ him, and not only that, but she felt a tremendous compulsion to follow him, follow his word.

And a huge war erupted inside her as this new solid something in her chest fought wildly against everything she was, everything she had become, every vow she had made. She was Hydra, Hydra was good, Hydra had saved the world from her deadly mistake, Hydra had given her a second chance to pay her penance, but … all of a sudden, it was all wrong. Everything was _wrong_. The so-called terrorist Patriot was saving a kid, a kid whose life was in danger because of something she, and Hydra, had just done.

And she was supposed to be on the same side as that teacher.

In a daze, she lowered her gun and reached out to help the kid – _Thank you_ – and she wanted to tell him, she was so sorry, this was her fault. And next thing it became clear that the Patriot was sacrificing himself to save them. It was all so _wrong_ , what the _hell_ was she doing?

She lingered longest after everyone had left the room, her heart cracking under the weight of the inevitable death of the man she had come here to kill. Finally, she ran, clearing the building just in time. She looked around desperately, looking to catch up with … and then she remembered that she hadn't come here with them, with the teacher. He wasn't waiting for her.

For another few moments, she stood there as waves of dust from the collapsing building whipped around her, stuck in limbo as her brain seemed to be completing some sort of reset. She knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was on the wrong side. Somehow, once again, in her attempt to do the right thing, she had only perpetuated evil.

She finally shook her head slightly, ridding herself of the image of the teacher, of the shocking familiarity of him. That made no sense. What did make sense was that she had just murdered an undeniably good man, and she had to make things right.

And so, with a new determination coursing through her veins, she went to rescue Skye.

x x x

How, _how_ did she know him?

It kept hitting her, right from the moment he inexplicably stepped between her and Mack's gun, declaring some unfounded trust for her. In the moment, it had felt as natural as anything that he would be there to defend her, and then in the next moment she remembered that it was bordering on the absurd.

Other than a few shouted sentences in a collapsing building, one where she had essentially murdered the Patriot at that, he had never spoken to her. She had never said a word to him. She, a notorious Hydra agent, had just stumbled upon the resistance, and he was accepting her presence without question. Without even a glance in her direction. Yes, she had just rescued Skye, but from their perspective, they should be assuming that it was a trap. Mack was right to keep a gun on her.

The teacher was insane to trust her.

"Phil Coulson," he introduced himself politely, reaching out to shake her hand as they hurried after everyone else through a prohibition tunnel, away from pursuing Hydra agents.

"I know," she said automatically, actually rolling her eyes, and then she wondered why she had. "I mean, we were looking for you," she amended quickly, but he didn't seem fazed. "Melinda May."

"I know," he agreed with an odd smile and now she wondered what he knew that she didn't.

They continued for a few tense minutes before the group finally slowed its pace, satisfied now that they were no longer being tracked. She found herself automatically sticking to Coulson, and then, in an effort to justify this behaviour to herself, she said to him, "Thanks for … back there."

He looked at her, a little more seriously now.

"I don't know why you vouched for me, but -"

"I trust you."

She frowned slightly at his matter-of-fact tone. She felt a maddening need to shake him and tell him not to be so naïve, that he would get himself killed if he continued to be this stupid.

" _Why_?" she asked with more exasperation than the situation warranted.

He shrugged and suddenly broke eye contact.

"You saved Dai- I mean, Skye."

"It could be a trap," she warned him, all the while wondering why she was telling him this. "I could be trying to trick you into showing me your base."

"Well, then it's working very well," he said lightly, offering her a smile that, to her astonishment, she readily returned. She hadn't smiled in years.

x x x

It hit her again and again.

And it was more than just feeling as though he reminded her of something. It was her own behaviour towards him that took her by surprise so much. She found herself sticking to his side much of the time because it felt unthinkable to be anywhere else, and she kept looking at him to catch his eye as though it was the most natural thing in the world. What was more disconcerting was that he was doing the same thing and so it was that they kept exchanging glances, glances that were filled with unspoken communication.

It made no sense, none. God, she had been on speaking terms with this man for mere hours.

And when they were at the news station, she found herself reaching to adjust his tie. She couldn't understand the impulse, an action so uncharacteristically intimate, and even more confusing was the wave of tenderness that washed through her chest as she did so. So familiar, her fingers on the knot, looking up at his mild expression, his soft blue eyes. Deja vu, he told her with a smile, and then she was smiling back at him again.

 _How_ did she know him?

x x x

 _An alternate reality? Seriously?_

It was insanity, a psychotic claim. She didn't know why she didn't immediately request that someone lock him up, or at the very least be made aware that he was delusional. She didn't know why she kept talking to him, kept following his instructions, kept at his side. He was crazy, out of his mind.

She carefully ignored the small voice inside her that reminded her that she had been looking for an answer to why she knew him, and he had just given her one. She ignored the voice as it reminded her that he was right, that this world felt _wrong_ and she had known that since the first moment she had looked at him.

No. She wanted, she _needed_ , proof.

Not that she would get proof.

Because, you know, he was clearly a nut-case.

Clearly.

What that said about her, the person who continued to feel more comfortable around this complete stranger than she had around anyone else in her life, she didn't want to know.

x x x

Her heart felt as though it was breaking, as though she was losing him, as he stared at her, his usually twinkling eyes heavy with hurt and betrayal. _What was needed, May?_

She jerked awake, an ache in her chest. She took a shaky breath and sat up, as the vivid image of his face gently melted away to reveal the dark room in the resistance base. She had no idea what she had been dreaming, but the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, felt hyperreal.

Restless and confused, she got up from her mattress and carefully navigated her way around the sleeping forms of Skye and a few others until she was out in the long hallway. She hesitated, then. She just felt an intense need to speak to him, to _ask_ him … Well, what could it hurt?

Her feet took her automatically up to the Director's office, where she was unsurprised to find him wide awake and perched against the desk, lost in thought. He perked up at the sight of her. He seemed far less perturbed than she was by their fast, illogical camaraderie.

"Hey, I thought you'd be sleeping."

She didn't have room for pleasantries. Her head was still full of her dream, full of questions. She walked right up to him and studied those impossibly familiar features.

" _How do I know you_?" she whispered, desperate.

x x x

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks for the feedback! This story will probably be four or five chapters in the end. Hope you enjoy Chapter 2!

 **Disclaimer:** Marvel. Not me. They're the best.

 **Chapter 2**

" _How do I know you_?" she whispered.

"I told you," he said quietly. "From the real world."

She shook her head, automatically rejecting this ridiculous idea. _Insanity …_

"You said you wanted proof," he said. "Well, I don't have … irrefutable proof, but, look."

He moved away from her and rifled around in a satchel that had been on the desk. He pulled out a folder and opened it. She stared as he sorted through the odd collection of newspaper clippings, a postcard from Tahiti and scribbled notes in what she assumed were his own hand. Despite the cynical thought that this did nothing to reassure her of his sanity, she continued to watch with rapt attention.

Finally, he handed her a thick page. It was ripped from a calendar, the month of May. There was a picture of a corvette in the corner.

"What is this?" she asked, puzzled.

"These are all … things that kept reminding me of another life," he explained, waving his hand vaguely over the still open folder. "May is my favourite month, but I never understood why."

He stared pointedly at her and she couldn't help feeling ridiculously touched.

"Also, Skye says I have a red corvette called Lola, some connection to my father. I suppose the sight of a corvette next to the word May was … well, it certainly meant something to me."

God, he sounded crazy. But … but she _felt_ … She half shook her head again, but it felt like a futile attempt at fighting his words.

He gave a shrug and said, "I get it. I can't prove anything to you, because I'm pretty much in the same boat as you. Except that I remember some things sometimes, things that make no sense … And I recognised Daisy. I mean, Skye, but her name _is_ Daisy. I recognised her, but I've never met her."

May felt emotion curl in her stomach. That was exactly what she had been feeling about him. Her fingers tightened on the month of May, crinkling the paper.

As if he had read her mind, he continued, "And you. I recognise you. And clearly you recognise me, or you wouldn't be up here."

"But," she objected, still fighting something in her chest, "I've never had anything remind me of _another life_. It's just … just you …"

He gave her a small smile.

"They say I've had my memory altered before. In the real world, I mean. That's why it didn't work properly on me."

She sighed, half letting go of her resistance, the battle between her intellect and emotion wearing her down.

"So, how do we know each other, then?" she asked him, trying to sound sceptical as opposed to desperate for the answer. "You said we're both SHIELD agents?"

"Yes," he said quietly, an absurd affection in his gaze. "And we're friends."

Something about the way he said this seemed to transport her straight back to the reason she had come up here in the first place. She saw again the hurt shining through the blue eyes of the Phil Coulson in her dream, felt again the crushing sense that she had lost him, that she had lost everything …

And as he stared at her, she felt the last of her resistance melt away. Still half caught up in her dream, lulled by the silence and the darkness, mesmerised by his gaze, she suddenly knew he _must_ be right. _How could I possibly know that?_ was her last desperate thought before she gave in to the impossible.

She felt a deep unwavering connection form gently between them as they stared at each other and she was struck by a sudden realisation.

"Are we … _together_ , in the … the real world?"

He gave a slight frown.

"I don't know … I don't think so."

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and broke eye contact to look at his feet. She had been so sure in that moment. Then she looked back up at him.

"I remember … something."

His eyes widened.

"What?" he asked, eagerly.

"It's just a moment, a dream really, except … except it feels …"

He nodded understandingly.

"Yeah. I get those. Like fragments of another life."

"I don't know about that," she said, suddenly stepping back from him and looking away. It was still hard for her to accept that she believed him about something so wildly unbelievable. "I don't get fragments, but this …"

"What was it?" he asked quietly after a moment.

She looked at him again, searching his eyes helplessly, looking for answers.

"I think I betrayed you there," she said, and she felt the ache in her chest come back. "I … I did something wrong, and I hurt you."

He didn't seem upset, only curious.

"What did you do?"

"I don't …"

She wrung her hands in a lost gesture.

"Well, I mean, don't worry about it," he said kindly. "I'm sure we sorted it out."

"How are you sure?"

"Because I feel like I trust you now. Anyway, I'm sure Daisy or Jemma would have mentioned if there was some kind of problem between us. But so far they've just said we're good friends."

She stared at him again, hungry for answers.

"What else did they say?"

"Just that we've worked together for a very long time and that we were partners. Neither of them said anything about us being … you know …" he looked fleetingly bashful, but then recovered with a smile. "But, apparently we're pretty close."

She still felt as though something essential was missing from this description of their relationship, like there was a forgotten element. Maybe they were wrong?

"Could it … maybe they don't know if we're …"

He looked thoughtful, but far more hesitant than he had looked before.

"I suppose it's possible," he said doubtfully.

May found herself stepping close to him again, the month of May slipping from her fingers as her hands came up to rest on his chest. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was she was feeling.

"You make me remember," she tried to explain, the rushing feeling in her head getting in the way of coherency. "In that building, when you said … and I did, I snapped out of it. You made me remember I was on the wrong side."

He said nothing, simply watching her.

"And you're … I know you, I can feel it, you're important …"

Suddenly she felt overwhelmed and ridiculous. She squeezed her eyes shut and made to move away from him, but she felt his hands gently resting on her upper arms, holding her in place.

"I know," he said consolingly, and she looked back up at him. "I know how hard it is to try and understand, to try and articulate these … these _fragments_ to yourself. I know you feel like you're going insane."

Unable to speak, she continued to stare at him. She felt a deep longing for more, for a closeness that felt maddeningly elusive, an intimacy that was _there_ , but that she couldn't quite grasp.

Making a decision, she leaned up and placed a very soft, hesitant kiss on his lips. Seconds stretched as they lingered there and then he responded with an equal little kiss back. Moments later, they were clutching at each other, kissing with fierce intensity and May felt as though something was coming back, some kind of knowledge of him, of their world together. Yes, Phil, he was … he was _everything_ –

Suddenly he broke the kiss and she felt as though she had been jerked out of another vivid dream, only this one slipped out of her mind's eye before she could grasp what it even was.

 _No …_

He seemed taken aback by the look on her face, which must have been as distraught as she felt.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft, but oddly gruff. "I just … I don't think we do this."

"I was remembering …" she tried to explain.

"Remembering what?" he asked after a short pause. "You remembered us together like that?"

She thought hard, barely aware of the fact that her hands were still resting at the back of his neck, and his fingers were still against her cheek. But the memory - or whatever it was - wasn't coming back. She closed her eyes and shook her head in frustration.

"I don't know what I was remembering," she admitted in a low voice. "There was just something … something about you. I don't know."

She was surprised to feel his lips find hers again, tender and soft this time, and even more surprised to feel the jolting intensity with which her heart leaped as an odd thought passed through her head. _I'm kissing Phil._ It wasn't the thought itself that was so distinctive, but the joyful wonder that came with it.

He pulled away again before it escalated like before. This kiss had clearly been more experimental, because now he watched her closely again, waiting for her reaction.

After a moment or two, she gave a sigh.

"I think you're right," she admitted slowly, now avoiding his eye. "I don't think we do this."

He nodded and carefully disengaged from her, although one hand lingered lightly on her elbow.

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

She didn't know why she suddenly felt almost … embarrassed.

"It felt," she muttered, still not looking right at him, "like a first kiss."

She risked a glance at him and saw that he was smiling slightly.

"Yes, that's what I thought, too."

She was relieved that he seemed to be on the same page as her. Anyone listening might have pointed out that it felt like a first kiss because it _was_ a first kiss, between them, in this world. But she had felt the deep significance of it, one that didn't correlate with how they knew each other here.

The hand that had been resting on her elbow came down to hold hers and she gripped it back. Despite feeling fairly certain that they weren't actually a couple in the world they had come from, she wanted to press her lips against his once more, to pull off his clothes, to _feel_ him in some way that might make sense of how desperately drawn to him she felt.

Almost as though he had read her mind, he said quietly, "It's probably not a good idea to pursue this … not here. Might make it uncomfortable for us when we go back."

"Yeah," she muttered distractedly, her brain lingering on the phrase _when we go back_. "You're probably right. I just … I wish I could remember properly. It's driving me insane."

He gave a little laugh.

"I know the feeling."

She felt a great relief at seeing him smiling at her, as though she had been missing him. And she didn't want the conversation to end. She glanced behind him at the rest of the folder.

"So … what does all the rest of that mean, then?"

He brightened.

"Really? I don't seem like too much of a lunatic, with my conspiracy folder?"

Amusement coloured her chest now.

"No, you definitely do. But apparently I'm as insane as you are, so we might as well embrace our shared delusion."

x x x

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks for your reviews and your patience. I was moving and as a result, got a little waylaid by life. But I'm settled in to my new home and back on my stories. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **Disclaimer:** Marvel. Not me. They're the best.

 **Chapter 3**

The next morning, May woke early and went in search of a gym equivalent. She found one and spent an hour beating the crap out of the punching bag and enjoying the way the exertion helped clear her head. Not only was her previous evening with Coulson still weighing on her, along with a distinct fear that she might be losing her mind, but she was finding herself reliving every terrible thing she had done for Hydra. Seeing her actions from this new perspective made her feel sick with guilt.

Even supposing this world wasn't real, her decisions had been.

"Hey," came a voice from the door, and May completed a final round kick to the bag before turning to find Skye watching her and smiling slightly.

"Hey," she said cautiously.

Skye walked over.

"Want to go a couple of rounds?" she suggested.

May raised her eyebrows, surprised. She and Skye had never sparred before.

"You're my SO, you know," Skye clarified in response to May's silence, and May detected something like pride in her voice. "In that alternate reality you don't believe in? So, we do this a lot. By which I mean, you kick my butt a lot, but whatever."

"So, you're willing to talk to me about that now?" said May quietly, remembering how unimpressed Skye had been on discovering Coulson had told her.

Skye shrugged.

"Coulson already spilled the beans, so why pretend?" she said, and added with a smirk, "So typical of him; guess old habits and all that."

"Meaning?"

"Well, I mean … he tells you everything, so …" There was a pause as Skye looked at her, slightly puzzled. "What's wrong? You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

May realised she had been staring at Skye with too much intensity, once again hungry for answers.

"No, I …" she frowned and shook her head, looking away. "I suppose I'm having trouble accepting it."

"So, you believe us?" said Skye, sounding surprised.

May sighed and looked back at her.

"I don't know what to believe," she said. "It sounds insane, but …" She hesitated, and then added, "I do feel like I know him somehow. Coulson."

"Well, that makes sense," said Skye vaguely. "You're closer to him than anyone else."

This was her opening, a place to get answers of some kind.

"How is it that you remember this "other life"?" she asked. "Coulson said you and the other girl, Simmons, that you weren't part of this … whatever this is?"

"Right," said Skye. "You guys were all kidnapped, you see, and your memories reprogrammed to believe you had always been in the Framework. Simmons and I accessed it ourselves to try and get you out, so we still remember our real life."

"And you don't remember this one at all?"

"Well, no. It was never programmed into us, you see."

May sighed heavily again and massaged her temples. "This is ridiculous," she mumbled.

Skye gave her a sympathetic smile, but said nothing.

"How long have I been in here?" May asked, fumbling as she tried to grasp what Skye was saying.

"A few weeks," said Skye. "He took you first and replaced you with a Life Model Decoy of yourself, so we didn't immediately know you were gone. Coulson and the others got taken when we went to look for you -"

"You know what, just stop," May interrupted. "I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't think I want to. You're just making me question my sanity even more."

"I guess that was a lot to take in," Skye conceded.

"How is it that I remember years of my life if I've only been in here for a few weeks?"

"I told you, your memories were reprogrammed," said Skye patiently. "And from what I can tell, they were reprogrammed from Bahrain onwards, although I guess you wouldn't remember having Coulson as your partner before that either, since he was off being a propaganda-spreading History teacher."

May's stomach had chilled considerably.

"Bahrain?" she asked quietly.

Skye looked as though she had been unexpectedly caught out.

"Right," she muttered reluctantly, now fiddling awkwardly with the punching bag beside them and avoiding eye contact. "That's … well, I think that's kind of the crux of this whole world, really. That you saved that girl."

She now turned to look May directly in the eye.

"You see, in the real world, you killed her."

May stared at her in open astonishment.

"I – I did?"

Skye nodded grimly.

"But it … well, you weren't the same after that. Coulson told me you lost a part of yourself when that happened. You left the field for years and everything. I think … they changed your biggest regret when you came to the Framework, you see. I think that was yours."

May felt decidedly wrong-footed and a bit spaced out, as she felt odd waves of emotion wash over her.

"But … saving her is my biggest regret," she murmured.

Skye seemed entirely at a loss for words at this, so the silence stretched on as May tried to regain some kind of grasp on reality. How could it be that she had once killed that girl and let it destroy her life? Was her life destined to fall apart from the moment she set foot in Bahrain?

"And Andrew?" she asked, struggling to speak his name. Things had not ended well between them.

Skye looked away.

"I … I don't know how much you want to know," she mumbled. "It won't matter when we go back. You'll remember it all then."

There was a definite heaviness to the air and May, in spite of herself, decided not to ask more about him. She was barely able to cope with everything she was being told now.

"What about Coulson?" she asked instead, remembering the main thing she wanted to ask Skye. "You say … I mean, he was my partner? That we're close?"

Skye nodded, cheering up slightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, for most of your careers, apparently. And now, Coulson is the Director of SHIELD and you're his, well his right hand. His left one is cybernetic."

May blinked and chose to let that go.

"And …" she stopped, realising that she was unable to ask what she wanted to ask. But it seemed she and Coulson had guessed right the previous evening. Skye hadn't mentioned anything about a deeper relationship between them.

"You're like your own little team." Skye suddenly got a slightly mischievous twinkle to her eye. "Mom and Dad."

There was a complicated mixture of irritable exasperation and some other unidentifiable emotion in her stomach for just a moment in response to this, which May dealt with by implementing an instinctive glare.

"Yeah, that's about right," said Skye with a grin. "I feel like you totally remember how annoying you find me."

"And I'm your SO?"

Skye grinned.

"Yeah. You know, if you're willing to spar a little, you might be impressed with yourself."

May grunted.

"We'll see."

x x x

May _was_ impressed, although she didn't tell Skye that.

This version of Skye was a far better fighter than the one she had known in Hydra. May, while never having directly sparred with her, had evaluated her skills several times over the years. That she did tell Skye, as they walked through the base to locate breakfast, and she looked extremely pleased to hear it.

"Don't get cocky," May warned her. "You may be good -"

"But no-one is infallible, I know," Skye finished and then, clearly amused by May's look of surprise, she added, "Would you like me to recite your control-in-the-field speech?"

After another taken aback pause, May said slowly, "No, thanks."

It was distinctly unnerving, not to mention irritating that Skye seemed to be enjoying herself so much.

"Hey!"

Coulson had appeared and he seemed happy to see her. She felt the now familiar sense of warm relief at the sight of him.

"Guess you did a better job than I thought of convincing May," Skye told him. "I honestly would have expected her to just crack your head against a nearby wall to try and knock some sense into you."

"Wasn't too far off," said May under her breath.

x x x

"Did you know I was the one responsible for the Cambridge incident?" May asked Coulson a bit later, feeling uncertain about bringing it up, but also feeling a very strong desire to justify herself to … well, to someone. She was having a difficult time justifying things to herself. They were in the Director's office again, having just finalised the logistics behind Skye's escape plan.

Judging from the look of surprise on his face, he didn't.

"No."

"I was the SHIELD agent who let that inhuman girl live," she said quietly. "I thought Skye might have told you."

There was a small silence as he apparently digested this revelation.

"Well … she told me that in the real world, that never happened," he said, his tone bracing. "That that girl died."

"Yeah, and I killed her," said May stiffly.

He said nothing in response to this and merely watched her.

"It's just … Skye says I saved her in here, because killing that girl was my greatest regret. And yet … look at all the pain and destruction I caused because of that regret."

"Well, it sounds like you didn't cause it," he said mildly. "You did the brave thing, the right thing. But I imagine it was a terrible burden to live with. Who can blame you for regretting it? It's whoever programmed this world … they caused all of this."

"But -"

"No, we've all done terrible things here," he interrupted, now very serious. "But this isn't who we are. Just remember that. You were manipulated here, but in reality, you are a good person."

"How can you know that?" she said, feeling strangely angry. "I don't feel as though I was manipulated. Everything I've done, I chose to do. How can I justify that? Even if there is another version of me that didn't do these things, _this_ version did."

He sighed.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I think that's a question that we can only answer for ourselves when we get out of here."

She looked away from him.

"But hey," he said, his voice suddenly soft, almost intimate. "This version of you fought back. You're making things right."

"It doesn't undo what I've done. The people I've killed. The Patriot …"

Skye had told her that, too. That the Patriot had been one of them, someone who existed in the real world, and who was now dead. She had done that. There was no escaping the consequences of this life, even if they could really free themselves from it.

She felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder and she turned to look back at him, those familiarly warm blue eyes filled once again with inexplicable affection.

"We can't change what we've done," said Coulson gently. "Only what we do from here."

His words seemed to speak right down to the depths of her psyche, because she felt an almost immediate return of her resolve. She could hate herself for everything she had done – and she would - but from here on out, she would dedicate herself to doing what was right. And she knew, somehow, that by following the man in front of her, she would always be sure of what that was.

It was then that she finally felt as though she understood something of what it was that he was to her. Their connection came from this, a shared struggle, a shared fight, a shared ideal. A shared understanding. A shared dedication to each other.

x x x

tbc

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading!


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